


Enlightening Faith

by AAG2649



Category: Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AAG2649/pseuds/AAG2649
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gannicus didn't know what annoyed him more: the way she looked at him with such adoration in her eyes or the way she spoke about the gods. Even now she has put her faith in him and he felt bothered by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Totem

She was a vision wrapped in a shroud of pure white, standing before him timid and unsure of his approach. Gannicus was enchanted by her doe eyes that were filled with such innocence, he couldn't turn away. As the cloth pulled away from her body, the gladiator stared at her creamy white skin, untarnished and clean; her hair smelled of flowers. No words passed between them, and when he looked into her eyes, he saw a sense of longing in them. His gaze traveled down the length of her body, taking in the softness of her petite body that was not harden with muscle. She was fit, her stomach flat from malnutrition, yet she had some curves on her. The swell of her breasts looked inviting to his touch, but he refrained himself from doing so and took hold of her chin instead.

Her skin was smooth underneath his rough hands, almost like silk. She didn't turn her eyes away and Gannicus was unsure why she was here, or the reason why she was willing to present herself in such a way. He didn't even know her name, and yet she was offering herself to him. A moment passed and the prolonged silence was broken when he made the decision to seek his pleasure elsewhere. She didn't belong here, and he was not going to take advantage of her naivety and muddled sense of gratitude by offering herself to him, to which he believe that she had no business or knowledge in what it entailed. She was a child.

Gannicus didn't find it ironic that she was with him in this current moment, both hiding away from the Romans underneath a stable. As they sat in silence listening to the sound of voices and footsteps above, his mind was filled with the uncertainty that they would not make it out of the city alive. While his attempt at a distraction proved to be successful, the Romans were searching for any remaining rebels in the city. In the quiet, Gannicus was still stricken by the lost of Donar, and although he was tired and deep in thought, he was still aware of his surroundings. The Romans were moving out of the stable to continue their sweep despite the long hours of finding nothing.

"They take leave?" Sibyl asked him in a small whisper.

"Not all," he answered. "Thousands more swell in the streets." Taking a closer look at his right hand, Gannicus noticed that his wound had stopped bleeding. The wide gash still stung now that the adrenaline had wear off. "The ones above spoke of victory, great numbers lost to us."

"Coupled with the curse that Spartacus yet eludes them," she reminded him. Gannicus turned to her and saw that she was looking over at him.

"He is a troublesome man to kill," he said with a smirk. "I have attempted it myself upon occasion." His confession was ignored, and he heard the tear of cloth, an indication that Sibyl was attempting to tend to his wound.

"The gods favor him and bless us as well," she remarked, grabbing his hand to gently wrap the piece of cotton around his cut. Gannicus relaxed as he studied her precise handiwork.

"They piss upon us and you welcome it as cooling rain," the gladiator scoffed.

"We are alive because they yet guide your hand." He looked up at her when she said those words, noting how she was speaking in a firm tone before returning his gaze to her skillful hands. "One I have faith will see us from darkest hour."

"Would that I shared the same." Gannicus turned his hand to see that his wound was properly covered and that the cloth was tight enough so that it didn't cut off his circulation. For a second, he appreciated the fact that she was at least useful. "You have done this before."

"My Dominus inflicted many wounds upon his slaves," she replied, settling back into her place beside him. Picking up her wooden statue, Sibyl brushed off the pieces of straw off of her legs, and he found his eyes traveling to her actions. "I often tended their injuries."

"Who tended yours?" He asked her. There was a brief pause and Gannicus couldn't help but grow curious at her lack of an answer.

"Diotimus showed a kindness," Sibyl finally answered. At the mention of another man, the Celtic warrior turned away as the corners of his lips lifted in contempt.

"Did he now?" His words spilled out with a hint of derision.

"He stood as a brother to me," she retorted softly. Upon hearing her words Gannicus immediately resented his wild assumption.

"Apologies."

"You struck down the man that took his life," Sibyl turned to him and he looked upon her as she spoke. "The man that took my own, a small piece at a time over a span of years." There it was: her relenting claim that he was her savior. In that current moment, he turned his gaze upward to remind them both that they were far from being safe, trapped under planks of wood while waiting for the Romans to end their search.

"Would that it had made a difference."

"You have made all in the world," Sibyl remarked, looking straight into his eyes. She held his gaze for a second then turned her body away so that her back was facing toward him.

To his disappointment and relief, she didn't engage him in another conversation and the Romans were still unaware of their hidden place under the stable. Gannicus saw the way she sat with her arms hugging her knees and her head resting upon her kneecaps. Her back was still resting against the column and her hands were still clutching onto the wooden totem as he saw the steady rise and fall of her shoulders under her long brown hair. For a second time since he had met her, Gannicus noticed her small stature and realized how young she was. Although she possessed a visage of chastity, she was a woman, and a foolish one at that. Like many before her, she looked upon him as a hero because he freed her from servitude. He couldn't even recall his first meeting with her since his mind was focused on taking the city and slaying every Roman who approached him. The thirst of battle was hard to ignore.

Sibyl's shoulders trembled and her body began lean over in his direction. Without warning, she rested her head on his right shoulder and he didn't make a move to push her away. His gaze lingered on the piece of wood in her small hands, tempted to grab it in spite of how tightly she was griping it. Gannicus knew that she was afraid and the totem was the only thing that was keeping her hands from shaking. He was glad that she was wise enough to have picked it up instead of clinging onto him, but now he saw it as a reminder that she had faith in him; as if she was placing her hope that the gods will keep them both alive and help him guide them to safety. Gannicus didn't know what annoyed him more: the way she looked at him with such adoration in her eyes or the way she spoke about the gods. It had been a long time since he believed in any gods. They had done nothing for him, and he was alive because of the skills he had honed by his own two hands. He had no faith in the gods, only in himself, and he found her to be foolish to think otherwise.

That night when he came upon her standing before him, Gannicus told himself that he did not need her gratitude, and he meant it. Sibyl was young, foolish, and untainted: everything he was not. He did not deserve her attention, nor should she associate herself with his men and his kind, for he would only bring her death and bloodshed. Many have fallen in his demise, and he even showed his brutality in front of her, yet she still looked upon him as her savior. Even now she has put her faith in him and he felt bothered by it. His hardships have taught him that there were no such thing as gods. In his natural environment, he was a killer, slaying men who threatened his existence. As long as he drew breath, he was going to live to drink and fuck another day, and no matter how drunk he would get, Gannicus never found the urge to pray or give into the delusion that there were gods looking over him. The only ones who looked over him were men who wanted dominance over other men of no status, and he would be damned if he were to believe in the same superstition preached by those very men. The only thing they both have in common was the fate of death, and he would be glad to live another day to bring it to them.

The young woman stirred against his shoulder and Gannicus took it upon him to lay her comfortably on the ground. It had been hours since the Romans returned to do another sweep and he was rather perturbed by her closeness. Although he was tempted by the wiles of women, he did not see her as one. Sibyl was different. She was someone who seems to have faith in him as well as her gods. She was also a maiden and should be remained as such. There was no doubt that she is beautiful. Gannicus just couldn't trust himself with her and if she were to stay at his side, he would only ruin her.

For a moment, he wanted to believe that he had some control in her fate by keeping her safe from harm and as far away from death as long as he was alive. Somehow, having her here with him kept his focus strong, and while he watched her sleep, he thought of a strategic plan to get them both out of Sinuessa en Valle. He couldn't let her down now knowing that she had faith in him, and from his experience, he was never one to disappoint a woman. Sibyl shouldn't be an exception.


	2. Prayer

_"I begin to believe in your gods. Let's see how far they would take us."_

It was dusk and the stench of death was in the air. After staying under the stables for so long, Sibyl was torn between anxiety and relief to see the streets of Sinuessa filled with Roman soldiers. The once peaceful city of Sinuessa was now a battleground laden with fallen warriors and occupied by the military. Blood was everywhere, staining the streets and walls of the city in crimson ink as the victors marched in large numbers. From the rooftops, she could see the many dead bodies scattered around every corner, forgotten and unmoving with their former shields and swords among them. Security was strict, and any person who wasn't a part of the Roman army was open to interrogation.

For a moment, it seemed like the odds of getting out of the city undetected were slim to none. It wasn't until Sibyl found a familiar face walking through the streets that changed the perspective of their situation. Heracleo was among a sea of red capes and upon observation, she and Gannicus discovered that the pirate captain was under the protection of Crassus and had access to move freely through the city. The source of his pardon was the golden token that hung around his neck, and after witnessing the success of his passage through the crowd of soldiers, it was apparent that they had to follow Heracleo and his crew in order to obtain the token. It was the only choice they had to ensure an escape.

Without instruction, Sibyl knew that she had to stay close to Gannicus and move in a quick and quiet manner. At the same time, she was mindful of the Roman soldiers that swelled in the streets below. While keeping a safe distance, they watched as the Cilician entered a vacant building with a bound captive in tow, and Sibyl couldn't help but wonder about the woman in the red dress. Her identity was hidden, but from what Sibyl could tell, the unknown captive was not a mere slave. She didn't dare to imagine about the woman's fate.

From outside she could hear the woman sobbing while the Pirate Captain spoke in his thick accent. They were not close enough to hear the entire conversation, but once Gannicus found an opportunity to climb down from the rooftops, she followed him. As she got closer to the building, Sibyl's heart jumped when she heard loud screams of agony coming from the inside. She cringed at the sound of the ear-piercing shrills and Gannicus drew his sword as they waited near the entrance. Once the screams died down, he gave her the signal to move, and they both rushed inside.

It was hard to miss the surprise on Heracleo's face when he turned around to find Gannicus standing before him, yet the pirate captain raised his hands to stop his men from moving forward. Staying near the threshold, Sibyl remained silent as Gannicus exchanged words with the traitorous pirate.

"It lifts spirits to see you are alive, my friend." Heracleo stood in a calm stance, mildly greeting at their unwelcome company like old friends despite his past transgressions. She couldn't help but notice his disfigurement. The large gash across his forehead was wide and ugly, heavily stitched together to repair the deep cut. From behind, Sybil noticed Laeta, who was glaring at Heracleo; her eyes were full of distain and hatred despite the tears rolling down her face.

"Many of my brothers did not fare as well."

"An act born of necessity, and raised with heavy heart," Heracleo remarked. "I much liked King Spartacus and his companions." A pause. "Well, most of them. Yet I was given a choice between a wealthy life, or die a merciless death, which to a man of my sort is no choice at all." Knowing that he had an advantage in numbers, Heracleo made an attempt to be courteous, however, Sibyl could hear the underlying tension in his voice. "I know what thoughts pass through mind, that we are but shit-eating Cilician, no match for a god of the arena." Whether Heracleo was trying to buy time for the Romans to discover them or putting up an act of bravado, Sibyl couldn't tell, and Gannicus didn't care. "Perhaps this is true, my friend." Heracleo's gaze flicked over to her for a split second. "Perhaps my sword will find your woman's throat before I fall. A thing you must appreciate in such a delicate situation." The unwarranted threat was clear, but Heracleo couldn't be more wrong about their relationship.

"She is not my woman," Gannicus told him as the look of contempt, along with his wide grin, fell from his face. The gladiator immediately rushed forward to take down the pirates before they had time to react, and the only thing Sibyl could do was to stay out of the way while Gannicus fought with Heracleo's crew. Now she understood why Gannicus was called a god of the arena. One by one, the men were defeated despite having an advantage in numbers. He took them down with skillful precision even though they were in a tight space. None of them could land a blow on him. Heracleo tried to make an attempt to catch Gannicus off guard, but the Cilician's attempt was in vain. Heracleo was thrown to the ground before he could land a second swing of his sword, and when he saw that Gannicus was occupied with the other pirates, he got up and made his way towards her.

She was a sitting duck and fear rushed through her when she realized that Heracleo had every intention of killing her. Knowing that she had to defend herself, Sibyl reached for the chain and manacles and tried her best to fend off his advances. After a few swings, Sibyl managed to strike him, but before she could hit him again, the pirate captain disarmed her. He grabbed the iron chains and cuffs out of her hands and threw them out of her reach, and before she could get away from him, he knocked her onto the ground with a swing of his arm. The abrupt blow brought her down onto her knees as she cried out in pain. Her cheek stung and there was a taste of blood in her mouth.

"Sibyl!" In an instant, Heracleo lifted her body up, holding her against him. The feeling of trepidation churned at the pit of her stomach when she knew that she couldn't escape from his grasp. Her gaze settled on Gannicus, who was standing before her with his eyes widen in fury.

"So you do care for the little one, huh?" The Cilician pirate raised his sword to her throat. "But it's a pity now that you have killed her."

"No!" Gannicus roared as she felt the cold blade across her neck. In the anticipation of her death, Sibyl let out a small whimper. Tears welled in her eyes as she waited for Heracleo to draw the sword across her throat, but to her surprise, his grip began to loosen. When Sibyl turned her head, her eyes widen in horror when she saw a hot metal rod sticking out of Heracleo's neck. Instinctively, she took a few steps back while the choking pirate tried to grab hold of the weapon that burned through his throat. Turning her attention to Laeta, Sibyl watched her breathing heavily, standing in triumph and relief that she had killed the man who branded her as a slave.

Sibyl was shocked to say the least. Laeta had saved her, yet a part of her couldn't process the fact that Heracleo was laying dead on the ground. In her daze, Sibyl didn't notice Gannicus had dropped his weapon and made his way towards her. She gasped when he grabbed her into a tight embrace. Immediately, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The contact was brief, but when he pulled away, he didn't let her go. "You are hurt?" His hands cradled her head as he spoke to her. She shook her head in response, inwardly telling herself that everything was fine. Gannicus seemed to believe her statement seeing how she was not in a hysterical state despite witnessing an unconventional execution. "We must move quickly before we are discovered," he reminded her, pulling away in order to continue their plan of escape.

Reaching down, he pilfered the necklace and pulled the silver cloak off of Heracleo's dead body. While he did that, Sibyl followed his instructions, standing near the doorway to be on the lookout for Roman soldiers. Mildly, she was aware that Laeta was crying. The red-haired woman was clutching onto her forearm, softly whimpering as her face held an expression of pain and anguish. She looked pitiful with the rims of her eyes darken with smudged charcoal. Her hair was disheveled and she could barely hold herself up. The only thing that kept her from falling onto the ground was her back leaning against the wall.

"What of Laeta?" Sibyl asked the Gannicus.

"What of her?"

"We cannot leave her," she insisted. The woman saved her life, and right now, she was alone and helpless.

"She stands Roman," he remarked. "She won't be seen with us."

"I stand nothing but a slave." Upon hearing these words, Sibyl looked over at Laeta as she uncovered the burn on her arm. Even Gannicus stopped his movements to confirm the truth of her statement. "As you once did." The gladiator let out a reluctant and stood up. He raised the necklace with the token over his head and moved to put on the silver cloak.

"Make haste if you do not wish to see the afterlife," he warned, lifting the hood over his head.

Moments later, Sibyl and Laeta found themselves bound in rope. It was for appearances and it was the least of her worries. She was more worried about the blood on her body. If someone were to ask her for an explanation, she wouldn't have an answer. Deciding it was better to put up a meek act, she lowered her gaze and kept her head down to avoid any attention from the Roman soldiers walking about the streets.

It was nightfall and the city was lit up by torches and pits of ember. The Roman soldiers were still among their posts, but they were fewer in number. Laeta informed them that the majority of Crassus' army was celebrating their victory with a display of executions. The victims were people of the rebel army. Since the Roman woman was familiar with the city, she directed them through the passage ways to avoid detection. Turning the corner, they came to a halt as more soldiers walked passed them. Although Sibyl did not know their current position in the city, she could tell that they were still far from the gates.

"We will not make it," Laeta exclaimed dishearteningly.

"Can you ride?" Gannicus asked her, referring to the horses that were left unguarded.

"I've seen it done," she answered him. Gannicus took it as an acceptable answer, and began to set a plan into action.

"Stay close," he told her. "We will not turn back for you." With that, he went ahead as she and Laeta followed closely behind him. They kept their eyes to the ground, walking in a steady pace towards the almost vacant area. Although the distance was short, the march was long, and as they continued their way, someone called out to them. Their steps came to a halt, but they refused to lift their heads or turn their attention toward the group of soldiers.

"I thought Heracleo granted but one woman." Sibyl could feel the man's gaze staring down upon her, and her first instinct was to remain still. "Where did he come by this one?" The man did not receive a reply, and when she looked up, she saw Gannicus reaching for his hood.

"Go!" He shouted, turning to kick the blond man in the stomach. The blow knocked him onto the ground.

As Gannicus fought the Romans in the narrow alleyway, she and Laeta ran over the horses to untie them. Laeta did not find any difficulty in mounting her horse, and Sibyl watched as Gannicus knocked over the metal casket of burning coals to create a barrier before running over to her. He quickly climbed onto the horse and pulled her up behind him. They bolted down the tight alleys with the Roman soldiers standing in their path, but Gannicus quickly struck them down one by one even as they attempt to form a defense with their large shields.

The thought of getting out of Sinuessa alive kept her fears at bay, knowing that the number of soldiers was overwhelming. However, they were no match for Gannicus. The horse obeyed his every command and even aided him in stomping a soldier to death. She didn't have the capacity to think about the amount of blood being spilled on the streets. Between the abrupt stops and the constant heaves in movements, Sibyl felt nauseous and dizzy, and she held onto him for dear life and closed her eyes to the massacre of men at her feet.

A path was finally cleared and the gate was absent of soldiers, but before their departure Gannicus turned to look at the man who was running towards them with a sword in hand while the other was clutching onto his wounded side. There was something familiar about him, but Sibyl couldn't get a closer look. The blond Roman stopped shortly to calculate the amount of fallen soldiers as Gannicus ripped off the token from his neck and threw it to the ground. The moment the heavy piece of metal hit the sand, the gladiator pulled on the reins, leaving behind a slew of dead Roman bodies for Crassus to deal with as they made their way toward the ridge to meet up with Spartacus.

* * *

She was tired and the only thing on her mind right now was the thought warmth. Clearly, she was not dressed for the conditions of the mountains. Her legs were rigid and her arms stung due to the lack of circulation. Snot was running down her nose, and her hair blew wildly while some were sticking to her face, but last thing she was worried about was her appearance. The thin air and falling snow made it difficult for her to breathe, and the cold winds cut her skin like glass. She braced against the bitter cold, pressing her face onto Gannicus' back as they rode with the winds blowing passed their ears. Her arms were clutching tightly around the gladiator's middle, trying her best to keep a clear head while the rest of her body grew numb to the long hours of riding. Laeta, who was riding ahead of them for some time had fallen back due to her injuries and Gannicus was focused on their destination and hadn't spoken to either one of them since leaving the gates of Sinuessa.

Sibyl pulled her body closer together when she noticed her hands trembling violently. In her attempt to control her shaking, she entwined her fingers, but it was in vain. Her body couldn't stay still. Before she could find another solution, she felt the cloak loosen as it fell from Gannicus' shoulders.

"Take it," he told her. Certainly, he didn't have to tell her twice. Working quickly with her hands, Sibyl draped the silver garment around her body. Once she tied the knot, she sighed in relief, not caring that the cloak once belonged to a man who attempted to kill her. It kept her warm and alive and that was the only thing she cared about.

The terrain ahead was covered in snow, and they were traveling nonstop. By now, the horse was at his limit and they were equally exhausted. However, from their position, Sibyl saw that they were close to Spartacus' camp. The horse was beginning to slow down, and steadily, the view of the ridge became clearer. When a fellow member of the rebel army took notice of their arrival, their horse was led to middle of the camp. In her fatigue, Sibyl didn't mind when a man helped her down. Once her feet landed on the cold ground, her knees began to shake from the cold and she saw that Spartacus and his company approached them.

When Gannicus dismounted, Saxa ran to him and greeted him in a warm embrace and a deep kiss. Having to witness their display of affection reminded Sibyl of Gannicus' previous concern for her own well-being.

After Gannicus killed her dominus, Sibyl wasn't sure how she should approach him. All she could do was follow him at a safe distance while she worked up her courage to finally speak to him. Her confidence was also deterred by Saxa, who seem to linger alongside Gannicus and made it clear that they were in a relationship. To avoid conflict, Sibyl kept her distance. Her inept social skills prevented her from doing anything else beyond observing him and sharing a few words. She came to learn that Gannicus was an honorable person, one who'd treat his fellow comrades with kindness. Those who have wronged him received his wrath. He also had distaste for unnecessary violence even though he was a strong and skilled fighter.

For a while, Sibyl was content to be near her savior, but when Saxa came to her with an opportunity to thank Gannicus, she couldn't refuse. To her disappointment, Gannicus didn't want anything to do with her. She was taken back when he refused her, but what bothered her the most was the fact that he didn't give her a chance to explain her actions.

When Spartacus ordered the evacuation of the city, Sibyl finally found her chance to clarify her admiration for him. She chose her words carefully so that he didn't disregard her genuine intention for something else entirely. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she spent all of her time stalking him in order to gain his favor. Once she said her piece and found that he accepted it, Sibyl felt content in knowing that she was able to speak with him one final time. What she never thought would happen was the events that transpired afterwards. Again, he came to her rescue, and for a brief period of time, she was able to have a real conversation with him. It was the last thing she expected to happen, yet she couldn't bring it to herself to forget a single moment of it.

"It is miracle any of us before you yet draw breath," Gannicus told Spartacus. Glancing at him, Sibyl caught his eye as he spoke. "The gods themselves must have taken note of delivered prayer in order to see us from certain end." It appeared to her that he also shared a sentimental value of their brief time together. Inwardly, she glad that she had made an impression on him. It was obvious that he did not believe in her gods, but seeing how they were able to escape the impossible, he came to tolerate her belief in them. She was never one to force religion on other people, however, she felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction in knowing that her prayers were answered.

Deciding it was time to become familiar with her bearings, Sibyl made her way through the camp to seek warmth and other company. Groups of people were huddled together under cover, and after walking toward a less crowded area, Sibyl settled in a vacant space. It was starting to feel much colder than before and for the second time that day, Sibyl was grateful for the long cloak that covered her entire body. Over a couple hours, Sibyl found a place to wash the blood off of her body and enjoyed a hot meal. Surprisingly, she found that the people in her company also believed in the gods, and they accepted her with open arms.

When she was a slave, she had to face many cruelties from her dominus. Laurus would beat his slaves. Sometimes, it would be for little things, and at other times, it was because he was bored. Her former master didn't tolerate disobedience and if he had a suspicion that any of his slaves were to run away, he would kill them before they got the chance to do so just to set an example to the other slaves. For many years, she felt broken. She wanted her life to end so that she did not have to live and serve under such a horrible person whose heart held no sense of compassion or kindness. The thought of suicide crossed her mind many times, but she couldn't do it knowing that the other slaves depended on her to tend to their injuries.

Having faith in the gods had made a difference in her life. Over a period of time, Sibyl began to pray for a miracle in order to keep her spirits up. Praying to the gods was the only thing that pulled her from the deep thoughts of taking her own life. For the first time in a long time, Sibyl began to realize that she could be a part of something bigger than herself and that she could make a difference for the lives of others, like how the followers believed in Spartacus and his cause. She knew that Spartacus, much like Gannicus, did not believe in the gods and she didn't mind. She could always pray on his behalf. The least she could do was pray to the gods to protect him and those who were fighting against the Republic for their freedom.

Closing her eyes, Sibyl clasped her hands together and in her silence, she began to voice her pleads in hopes of receiving a reply. The gods were always listening, and if they had heard her prayers once, they would hear her prayers again.


	3. Epiphany

The inevitable season of winter was upon them, and the harsh howling wind signified that a storm was coming. For Gannicus, he was wary of the weather. After spending much of his time in the sands, he did not favor the chill of snow and frost. Even during his travels, he was mindful of the coming seasons, and had the luxury to find warm shelter. Now that the liberated slaves were driven out of Sinuessa en Valle to the mountains, the lower temperatures and the cold winds increased their difficult situation. Providing enough shelter for the thousands of people was one of many concerns. Coupled with the harsh weather and the decline of food, they were also trapped by trenches and high walls.

Currently, they were dealing with another dilemma. Crassus' forces were marching down the mountain pass. As the century of soldiers began to fill the white ground with masses of red capes and shields, the certainty of defeat crossed his mind. They were clearly outnumbered, and with the disadvantage of the weather, he didn't approve the idea of engaging in a losing battle. Thankfully, he didn't have to shoulder the responsibility of their course of the battle. Contrary to Crixus' eagerness towards a battle upon the snow, Spartacus made a reasonable decision to retreat. With his past expertise of serving in the Roman auxiliary, the Thracian leader knew that the Romans were not going to advance without their commander. They were merely holding their position until further command.

Gannicus admired Crixus' appetite for battle, however, anyone could see the impulsiveness of his decisions, which was a stark contrast to Spartacus' value for patience. Unlike Crixus, he agreed with Spartacus. He didn't find Crixus' appeal of dying on the battlefield. Gannicus knew better than to risk the lives of his fellow brothers. Not to mention, the safety of the thousands of people who wouldn't be able to defend themselves against the Roman military if they were to fall in battle. Too many lives were at risk, and with Crassus utilizing ten thousand men to fight on his side, the option to retreat was better than the prospect of death.

The force of the winds grew by every coming hour, and as Gannicus returned to the camp with Saxa at his side, he could see that many people were not prepared for the cold. While preparing for the departure for Melia Ridge, they had to pack everything they might need. Essentials such as food, drink, and medicine were considered as well as weapons and shields. Clothing, however, was limited since they could only bring what they could carry. Currently, they were all shivering in their cloaks and blankets with their head bowed down in attempt to retain their body heat. The option to build a fire to keep warm was out of the option. The winds were too wild to maintain a proper heat source. In addition, there were not enough tents to provide everyone with shelter, and although they were sitting under cover, it was not enough to protect themselves from the frigid winds. With the storm approaching, Gannicus did not have a solution for the people suffering from the cold, and if they were to continue to sit outside, they would all freeze to death by nightfall.

Inwardly, the Celtic warrior didn't even know why he was starting to concern himself with problems that were not his responsibility in the first place. Spartacus should be worrying about the livelihood of his followers, not him. The idea of carrying of the burden of responsibility was precisely why he declined Spartacus' offer to take the mantle of a leader. Sure, he had the ability to give command, but leading hordes of men into battle was a different thing entirely. He wasn't a hypocrite, and he refused to let the people who would be fighting along his side to mistaken his thirst for battle for his dedication to their cause. His only dedication was to honor Oenomaus' belief in Spartacus' cause.

Ever since he returned to Rome, his options of living were limited. His choices were either be put to use by the Republic to serve as a symbol of strength or stand aside as more innocent slaves die in the name of propaganda at the hands of the Republic. In the end, he chose to aid Spartacus to justify his vengeance and was marked as an enemy of Rome. He knew the consequence of his actions, and instead of returning to his former life of being a vagrant with no purpose in life, he chose to be a fugitivus. He still had no purpose other than to live another day, but it was a better option than his previous offers, and above all, the decision was his own.

At times, Gannicus would find himself assessing the worth of Spartacus' cause. The years of being the Champion of Capua for the house of Batiatus had taught him that his life was always at the expense of others, and when the period of fighting for his survival was over, he moved on, living his life as a free man. Yet, every now and then, he would miss the thrill for a good fight. By fighting alongside Spartacus, Crixus, Agron, Naevia, Saxa, Lugo, and his fellow brothers, his addiction to danger was fulfilled while other pleasures, such as wine and women were also at arm's reach. He was satisfied with his current living conditions, however, the approaching storm was beginning to provoke the change in his priorities.

As Saxa led him towards a tent to tend to their own needs of pleasure, his previous thoughts of dealing with the responsibility for others slipped his mind. It wasn't until he saw a familiar face in the mass of people that made him pause momentarily. Gannicus saw that Sibyl was sitting among the crowd of people who were exposed to the cold. He meet her gaze when she looked up at him with her hands clasped together closely to her chest. She was draped in a cloak that covered her entire body and was using a blanket to keep her legs warm. Looking at her, the thoughts of their time together in Sinuessa returned to his mind.

At that time, she had depended on him for survival, and although he would not tell her, she was the one who gave him purpose to find an escape in such a hopeless situation. Remembering how strongly Sibyl spoke of the gods reminded him of his former friends. Oenomaus and Melitta had often mentioned the will of the gods, and even though he didn't believe in them himself, he knew the importance of spirituality. There was little worth when you're living your life as a slave, and while the gods didn't respond to all of their prayers, it gave them hope as long as they believe the gods to be real. He thought himself a fool for dismissing her belief in the gods. Her previous life must have been harsh, and from what she had told him, she probably got through that tough period of time praying for a savior, in which she believed him to be.

The anticipation of satisfying his sexual appetite diminished when Sibyl tore her eyes from his glance. After their escape from Sinuessa, she had kept her distance from him. With the large obstacle of being trapped by trench and wall lingering on his mind, this was the first he had seen her in days. Seeing her now ignited something within him. As he walked away from her, Gannicus could feel a familiar sense of apprehension stirring at the back of his mind. He had every intention to ignore it, but his conscience reminded him that Sibyl was among the many that would need shelter from the storm. The lasting impression of her hands wrapping his wound when they were hiding under the stables came to mind, and in that moment, he came to realize that he felt rather protective of her. It wasn't because she was helpless. The thought of her becoming a casualty of the storm did not sit well with him. Something had to be done and since Spartacus was occupied with other matters, Gannicus decided that he should offer his hand in shouldering the responsibilities.

They were a few feet away from the entrance of the tent when Gannicus came to a halt. Saxa pulled her hand away and turned to face him as he spoke.

"Let us turn thought from ourselves and see them towards deeper needs."

"Your words sound as Spartacus," she told him, smiling at him as though he was telling her a joke. Clearly, she didn't believe him to be the caring type, not that he blamed her. He would rarely tend to the needs of other people unless they were in bed together. Often, he would stay out of the affairs of Spartacus and Crixus unless they were of personal concern. Currently, Gannicus couldn't figure out if his change of attitude was due to a fatigue of his routine or something else entirely. Whatever it was, he mind was set on a productive activity that didn't involve satisfying his needs.

"They are my own," he remarked. "Heed them as you will." The smile on Saxa's face faltered when she realized that he was serious about his intent to help others instead of spending the little time they have together. He turned away from her, heading toward a direction to find a solution for the frigid winds. As he continued his stride, Gannicus couldn't help but looked over at Sibyl. His dark eyes met her lingering gaze for a split second before moving forward to follow through with his impulsive decision. In that moment, he had no idea what the fuck he was doing, but walking away seemed like a start.

* * *

His intention to help others from the approaching storm was cut short by Spartacus' proposition to attack Crassus' Praetorium. By now, the winds were blowing heavily and by nightfall, the conditions would only get worst. It turned out that the storm was the least of their concerns. They had walked into a trap and found Donar's dead body crucified with the words _Mors Indecepta_ carved into his chest. It was a message from Crassus: Death was coming for them. Gannicus didn't take the omen seriously, but when they returned to the camp, Naevia was badly wounded. She bleed from her stomach as Spartacus carried her to the medicus with Crixus closely behind. The expression of worry and anger was etched on the Gaul's face seeing how his lover was on the verge of death.

After delivering Naevia to be tended, Spartacus disappeared for awhile. As for himself, Gannicus went to get some wine in order to warm himself up. The storm was relentless with the winds threatening to uproot the tents as many scrambled to secure their shelter with by hammering down the pegs and pulling onto the ropes. Other men were pulling boxes of supplies while many were yelling out orders that were muffled by the fierce winds. He was just passing by when he saw that the medicus tent had collapsed. The people who were recovering within it were struck with surprised as they found that their source of protection was blown away. From behind, he saw Agron approaching.

"Fuck," the German General cursed. He ran toward the injured, directing them to safer location. Many of them were unable to walk, however, no aid came to them since everyone was busy securing the means to their shelter. Gannicus helped a heavily bandage man from the cot and guided him to another tent only to find it full. "This storm will bring the death of many." Finally finding space in a tent for the wounded man, the Celtic warrior turned his attention to the crowd of idle people. "We must inform Spartacus." Agron didn't have to tell him twice. It was apparent that Spartacus was better suited to help these people. There were too many of them and he wasn't really familiar with the camp and its layout.

Gannicus and Agron quickly tried to find the rebel leader. It turned out to be an easy task since the Thracian and the Gaul decided to have a brawl while the onlookers stood back to witness the two taking out their anger and frustration on each other.

"Crixus!" He and Agron came just in time to see that Spartacus was choking his fellow brother. Immediately, Gannicus grabbed hold of Spartacus while Agron pulled Crixus to his feet. Without doubt, he could see that tension was running deep between Spartacus and Crixus had finally erupted.

"Have you fallen from fucking reason?" Gannicus couldn't help but grin at Agron's choice of words. Although it was healthy for the two gladiators to release their pent up tension every now and then, the German was right, now wasn't a good time. "Now is not time for quarrel." Spartacus moved forward to chase after Crixus, but Agron held his arm up to stopped him in his tracks. "Medicus tent has been struck by rising winds!"

"The storm approaches," he reminded the rebel leader because clearly, Spartacus was not done with Crixus' confrontment. "See those exposed to shelter." In an instant, the quarrel was forgotten and Spartacus followed him through the crowd to face yet another dilemma.

They didn't waste any time and helped the excess amount of people to another place in the camp. Gannicus looked around for vacant areas while Spartacus directed orders. The tents and ropes shook wildly, but they held against the periling storm. It was organized chaos with people scrambling to find shelter while others braced against the cold. Like many others, several injured victims were not dressed for the winter. Instead, they gathered whatever blanket they had to accommodate the absence of a cloak.

As he continued to search for those who were still exposed to the storm, Gannicus found himself looking for a familiar face. It took him a second to realize that he hadn't seen Sibyl among the hordes of people. After a moment, he remembered that when they all returned from their fail mission to attack Crassus' Praetorium, Spartacus had traveled near the outskirts of the camp to accompany a few worshippers. At first, Gannicus didn't question the rebel leader's intentions since it was widely known that Spartacus did not care for the gods. Yet, he still had the compassion to indulge his followers' beliefs. Knowing Sibyl, she was probably out there with the circle of worshippers.

Gannicus was about to turn to Spartacus to tell him that he was going to head out and find more people who needed to find refuge from the storm, but the Thracian was assisting Laeta, and was too far away to hear him properly. Instead, he marched in the direction of the open area. It took several minutes, but he managed to find a small group of people kneeling on the ground. The temperature was continuing to decline, but none of them had the intention of finding protection from the storm. They were slowly being buried under the frost and ice.

From afar, he could see that a hooded figure falling to the ground and when he rushed over, he found that it was Sibyl.

"Why did you not go with the others?" Anger and bewilderment overcame him when he saw that she was bleeding from her hand. The open cut was covered in crimson fluid as it spilled down her palm and onto the ground. The pure white snow was now stained with her blood.

"I must give offering," she answered him, still lying on the ground. Her eyes stared into his as she spoke above a whisper. "The gods shall reveal path." Seeing that she could barely stand up, much less talk, Gannicus gathered up her cloak and did his best to cover her body in order to protect her from the cold. If she stayed here any longer, she would either freeze or bleed to death.

"They reveal only your death if you remain on bended knee," he argued, taking her into his arms. She was too weak from the lack of blood circulation to put up a protest, but what concerned him the most was that she was starting to lose consciousness. He had to get her back to the camp, and before he turned away, the gladiator looked upon the others. "Seek shelter or greet your gods upon the shores of the afterlife." He knew that they all heard him, but they ignored his warning and continued on their mantra with conviction.

* * *

The snow was everywhere: on the ground, in his face, and blowing before him. It was never-ending, blinding his vision to the point where all he could see was white. After traveling for a short period of time without any recognition of familiar surroundings, it occurred to him that they were lost. As he walked forward, Gannicus saw an overturned cart nearby, which provided him two options: he could continue to walk aimlessly in the storm, or stop and rest to wait it out. The choice was an easy one to make since there was no way either of them would make it back safely to the camp. Carefully, Gannicus set Sibyl down and together, they settled in the vacant space.

They were both sitting closely and when he looked over at Sibyl, he was aware that she was still bleeding. He reached toward his belt to get retrieve a piece of cloth, and wordlessly, he pulled her hand towards him and began to treat her wound.

"We again find ourselves in pressing space nursing wounds and praying the afterlife does not take us." He wrapped the fabric firmly around her hand.

"You pray now, do you?" She asked him with an amused smile on her face.

"Upon many things," he remarked, giving her a quick glance before returning his attention to her injury. "I am not so dim of mind to kneel in storm, raise voice to the heavens, nor spill my own blood as offering." He knew she meant well, however he couldn't help but reprimand her for being so careless. Had he arrived a little later, she would have died from hypothermia or blood lost; possibly from both, neither of which was a peaceful death.

"It stood as sacrifice for Spartacus," Sibyl tried to explain. The Celtic warrior resisted the urge to roll his eyes and found that he failed to do so.

"You believe him a God now?" He asked, his tone of voice was filled with contempt.

"It was made on his behalf to plead for his cause and all those devoted to it." It was the sincerity of her voice that made him want to retract his previous rebuff. His dark eyes bore into hers, and he found himself staring into her brilliant eyes. He was amazed by the kaleidoscope of colors that reminded him of both the forest and sea, but what held his interest was the way she looked at him. Her gentle expression of concern filled him with bewilderment. Here she was, willing to risk her life to ask the gods to help others while she disregarded her own safety in order to do so. Although she knew that they did not share her same belief in the gods, it didn't stop her from displacing her faith. It was a selfish act, seeing how she could have died for her belief, and yet, he was in awe of her determination to keep her faith alive even though others may not understand it.

Her spirituality once again brought back the memories of Oenomaus and Melitta to his mind. While Gannicus did not share in their belief, being near their influence kept him grounded. He felt safe whenever he was around Oenomaus and Melitta, like he was a part of a family, knowing that they cared for him as much as he cared for them. One thing he admired about them was their devotion to each other. Oenomaus was fortunate to have Melitta by his side. She believed in her husband and was his pillar of support, giving him hope and strength that he would one day make his return to the sands.

At times, Gannicus was envious of their relationship. In his hedonistic pursuit, he had met and slept with a lot of women, however, none of them could compare to the kind of woman he had in mind. After spending years wandering Rome as a free man, he had time to reflect on his actions, and along the way, he realized that the manifestation of his attachment to Melitta was a result of his jealousy. She was different from anyone he had known: pure of heart and equally strong in intellect and spirit. She was like a beacon of light in world full of shit.

Oenomaus and Melitta was a perfect match: an honorable man with a devoted wife who had every ounce of her faith in him. They loved each other dearly, and once in a blue moon, he found himself thinking about their times together, but harboring such thoughts brought his mood down, and he would return to his wine, drinking his fill until sleep overtook him.

Recently, it occurred to him that it was probably the absence of faith that kept him from finding a purpose in life. Although he had no complaints about his current living arrangements, the idea of committing to Spartacus' cause was beginning to waver. The rebellion seemed like a never-ending cycle with Rome using all of its resources to quickly bring it to an end. They could be fighting for years, and Rome would continue to send more soldiers to deal with their insurrection until one side falls to defeat. Instead of filling his head with these heavy thoughts, Gannicus filled his time with the company of women and wine when he was not on the battlefield.

Gannicus didn't know how long he would continue to stay by Spartacus' side, and as much as he enjoyed Saxa's company, he didn't want to restrict her freedom by keeping her attached to him. His relationship with Saxa had developed from a night of celebration to a completely physical relationship that was somewhat exclusive. There was no doubt her sexual appetite rivaled his own, however, it seemed like their relationship existed because they were using each other to satisfy their own carnal desires. He had no problem with that, however, Gannicus was beginning to realize that being with Saxa had kept his mind away from his dark thoughts and doubts, but inwardly he knew that the extent of their relationship did not stray beyond their beds or the battlefield.

After his escape from Sinuessa, he became aware that he was yearning for a deeper connection that was similar to one Oenomaus and Melitta had. They cared deeply for one another, and in this current moment, he was feeling a strong and familiar desire to protect Sibyl from harm. He didn't why he was feeling that way. Maybe it was the way she looked at him with a sense of wonder and hope. Whatever the reason, Gannicus found himself at ease opposed to the overwhelming restrain of obligation. Being with her reminded him much of his past relationship with Oenomaus and Melitta, and how greatly he missed being with them.

"I have doubted your belief in days past," he confessed. "Found myself a fool for it." The storm interrupted the rest of his train of thought. As the harsh wind shook their only source of protection from the storm, Sibyl drew closer to him in fright. Automatically, he wrapped his around her shoulders, aware that she was slightly trembling. "You are safe," he told her as he stroked her hair in an attempt to comfort her. "You are safe." Sibyl was resting her head against the hollow of his neck, and he let her remain there until she decided to tempt him. Before he could figure out what she was doing, she was kissing him. Her lips were soft and he couldn't help but return her affection. When she pulled away to gauge his reaction, Gannicus found himself at a crossroad. The thought of her previous offer was still vivid in his mind. Now that they were alone again, he was beginning to realize that the extent of his self-control was slowly deteriorating. "I have warned you to stay far from men of my kind," he reminded her.

"You ask the impossible," she softly replied. As soon as those words left her mouth, his resolve to resist her was undone. Gannicus reached for her, cupping the sides of her face and pulled her towards him. He kissed her deeply, and this time, they did not part. He gently pushed her down onto her back, and for moment, he hesitated, but Sibyl urged him to continue. He looked down at her as she pulled his left hand to undo the strings of her cloak. Accepting her consent, Gannicus continued and removed the fabric off her shoulders, revealing her full breasts. He took a second to take in the view, mesmerized by her porcelain skin.

Gently cupping her face, Gannicus pulled her toward him and bent down to give her a deep, long kiss. He drank her in with the desire to taste every bit of her, not stopping for air. His other hand was busy touching every part of her body, and he heard her whimper when he kissed her neck, leaving red marks on her smooth porcelain skin.

He ran his thumb over her breasts, smirking as they perked up in excitement. As she arched her back, his right hand traveled down to her hips while his other hand lingered on her inner thigh. He continued to ravish her neck while his long fingers grazed upward to her center, massaging her clitoris. She let out a sharp gasp as he continued to stroke her, moving her hips to the rhythm of his fingers until her juices seeped out of her.

In a thrust, he buried himself in her as he devoured her lips to silence her moan. The desire to move within her was immediate, and her legs continued to spread open, inviting him in. As she stretched to make room for him, he slowly began to grind against her, tightening his grip on her thigh to hold her against him.

In their close proximity, he leaned forward to capture soft lips, ignoring her shortness of breath. Her hand dug into his shoulders blades, and he rolled his hips, pulling out and pushing back into her while he securely held onto her thigh. He continued to kiss her, moving downward to her breasts, slamming into her again and again as the friction of her vaginal walls brought him closer to his state of pleasure. She was made for him, taking him in as he filled her up all the way to the hilt in a rhythmic haste. Every time he pushed into her, she would mew; her hot breath panting against his neck, and with the sound of her moans resonating with such intensity, it made him want to sink deeper and harder into her.

They were panting heavily and he knew that Sibyl was almost at her limit. Her gasps were turning into soundless hitches of breath. She was near. With a final thrust, she let out a sharp gasp and Gannicus held her tightly against him as her body stilled. A low grunt came out of his mouth and his hips twitched when his seeds were releasing in her. Panting and out of breath, he was careful not to crush her and rolled onto his back. At the same time, Gannicus pulled her against his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of her small shoulders as she rested her head near the hollow of his neck.

They both remained unmoving with his arms wrapped her petite body, quietly catching their breath as they shared the warmth between them. In their exhaustion, Gannicus and Sibyl closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep, unaware of the passing storm.

* * *

The stillness of the storm woke him up from his short slumber, and when he regained his senses, Gannicus could hear Sibyl breathing soundly. His arm was still wrapped around her middle, holding her close to him while the other was tangled in her soft dark hair. Looking down, he saw that her upper body was still bare, and attentively, he slipped the straps of her dress over her shoulders. Sibyl stirred against his movements, but she didn't open her eyes. Knowing that they had to return to the camp, Gannicus pushed them up into a sitting position and lightly shook Sibyl's shoulders to wake her up.

"The storm has passed," he informed her. Gannicus felt her pulling away from him and when he looked at her, he saw that she was smiling at him. It was anything but coy, and he found himself returning her smile with a wide grin. The brightness of her hazel eyes matched the subtleness of her delight to see him, and leaning forward, he placed a kiss on her lips to show her that he felt the same.

"The gods have answered your prayers," she told him while she gathered her long hair over her left shoulder. Using her fingers, she tried to untangle her wet tresses and separated her hair into three parts.

"Did they now?" He watched her as she began to braid her hair.

"We are alive," Sibyl replied, securing her braid with a leather band.

"That we are," Gannicus remarked, giving her a smirk.

With the sky still dark, they left the overturned chart. In doing so, they found themselves walking back to the starting point, where a search party was waiting for them. Agron was the first to see them and from the distance, the Celtic warrior immediately saw the surprise on everyone's face.

"I feared you among the dead," Spartacus stated calmly upon his arrival. Gannicus was aware of Saxa's questioning gaze and he found himself unable to look at her.

"Gods took pity and provided us with needed shelter." Judging from her expression, she was less than happy to see him with Sibyl at his side. She had a reasonable cause to be mad at him. He left her without telling his whereabouts and a part of him felt guilty for making her worry. He could only imagine the kind of thoughts she had while she patiently waited for the storm to pass in order to be out here searching for him. He was grateful that she cared for him, but he was also surprised to see that she willing to go out of her way to find him.

"Not all are so blessed." Hearing Saxa's disapproving tone, Gannicus knew she had figured out what had happened in the time of his absence. He found himself holding onto Saxa's gaze as if he was silently asking her to forgive him. Forgive him for what, exactly? He didn't know, but he was willing to do anything to have her stop looking at him with such disdain.

Naevia once asked him indirectly that if he would resort to kill anyone who would threaten the person he love most. At that time, she referred to Saxa, but in his anger, Gannicus dodged her question with a different answer. Of course, he and Saxa both were clear about the extent of their relationship, and while others might mistake it for love, it was not it. Besides, if anyone had the balls to try and harm Saxa, he knew she was skilled enough to defend herself. She didn't need him to fight her battles, and she would probably engage him in a fight to prove it.

"No, they were not," he heard Sibyl remarked. Saxa turned away from him while the others returned their attention to the frozen corpses. "We sought aid from the heavens to see us beyond darkness of trench and wall, and here stands reply?"

"Yet in their cruelty, perhaps the gods light way for those yet living." Gannicus was barely listening to Spartacus. What he did to Saxa was almost as cruel as the result of the storm. However, he knew it necessary. Their relationship developed out of convenience, and neither was brave enough to break away from their comfort zone. Now that he had finally sorted out his thoughts and feelings, Saxa was free to do as she wished. They couldn't go on pretending that they needed each other beyond what they had. He made his choice, and while Saxa disapproved, she was choosing to walk away with her head held high. He had survived the perilous storm, and without a doubt, he knew that she would too.

* * *

After the success of breaching Melia Ridge, the liberated slaves once again found themselves marching across unfamiliar terrain. The weather was more bearable since they left the mountains, but their hardship was different. Instead of the cold, they had to trek through the forests as well as climb many hills in order to place more distance themselves from Crassus' army. Moving thousands of people through a vast valley of land wasn't an easy task. Women, children, and men had to carry themselves on their feet as well as the supplies on their backs. At night they would set up camp and when dawn approached, they would begin the long day's journey without any knowledge of their current situation except that they had to keep moving forward to ensure their survival.

For the first couple of days, they were occupied by the overwhelming exhaustion of the march, but on the third day, the scouts had seen Roman soldiers from a distance. Spartacus tried to motivate the escaped slaves to keep moving forward, but the difficulty of transporting thousands of people had caught up to them. By the fourth day of their journey, a legion of Roman soldiers had found the rear of the march, attacking everyone in sight. The first wave of the attack resulted in a large number of casualties until Spartacus devised a plan to have several fighters remain on guard in case of another attack.

Unsurprising, they were ready to engage in battle when they had a second encounter with the Roman soldiers. This time, however, many of the escaped slaves did not stand a chance to run away due to their fatigue of travel. Gannicus held his ground and killed as many soldiers as he could after he had to witness helpless children, women, and unarmed men being struck down where they stood, and when Crixus refused to show any mercy on the remaining Roman, he stood back and watched as the Gaul severed the enemy's head with satisfaction.

Even though they started out with an advantage, it would seem that Crassus was more determined to pursue them after his lost at Melia Ridge. There was no doubt that Crassus and soldiers would find them soon, narrowing the distance they had tried to establish between them. If another legion were to follow, they would use the dead to track their movements. The only option they had right now was to move more quickly.

Often, he would find himself thinking about Sibyl when he should be focusing on protecting the march from the possibility of attack. With thousands of people moving at a different pace, it was hard to keep track of everyone. To ease his mind, Gannicus made sure that Sibyl was near the front of the march. As a result, he would rarely see her during the day, but every now and then, he would find her among the company of women. Although she did not possess a social nature, it surprised him that she could forge a familiar bond with other people in a small amount of time. Personally, he found it reassuring that Sibyl would occupy her time by socializing with other people instead of worrying for his return or finding the need to stay near him. Yet, he couldn't help but miss her daily presence, and would set out to find her at nightfall.

While maintaining his focus, Gannicus chose to utilize his time to figure out their current location. It didn't take him long to figure Spartacus' intentions. Although they were far from Melia Ridge, Spartacus kept their distance to the valley. The rough terrain signified that there were further away from the Republic and closer to more unsettled land. He didn't have to guess to figure out what Spartacus was planning. His destination was set towards the Alps and the foreign lands that awaited them. The success of his plan depended on their execution. There was no doubt that they had to pick up the pace of the march if they were to continue on foot. The thought of Crassus gaining on their movement was all the motivation Spartacus needed to ensure his followers the freedom they deserve after enduring a lifetime of slavery.

Before long, it was a dark again, and Spartacus advised his followers to set up camp. All were more than happy to oblige, but Gannicus had another goal in mind. Walking through the camp grounds, he found Sibyl setting up a tent. Quietly, he strolled over to her with every intention to lend a hand only to find that she was done with her task.

"I see that my skills are not needed." Sibyl turned around to find Gannicus standing behind her. She quickly recovered from his unexpected presence and moved to gather the other boxes that were filled with supplies.

"I managed on my own," she told him, giving him a knowing smile. "Perhaps you could build the fire?" Finding a spot on the ground, she sat down and began to pull out the hidden contents that were wrapped in cloth. From the smell, he knew that it was the rations of food that were divided among the people.

"Only if promised a meal," he answered, kneeling down to gather a small mass of twigs to ignite a fire.

"Indeed," she stated, unwrapping a portion of bread. Using a knife, she cut off a large chuck and placed it in a bowl before folding the cloth to cover it again. "A proper one." Standing up, she moved around him to inspect the contents of the other boxes while he began to stack up a small pile of wood, adding a handful of dried grass into the mix. While he searched for the flint and striker, he noticed that Sibyl was too occupied with her task to look at him and despite his exhaustion , he wanted to talk to her.

"The comfort of a bed would deem more fitting in my current state." Stopping her movements, Sibyl looked over her shoulder. This time, she took a closer look at him and although she did not comment on his appearance, she knew that the day had taken a toll on him.

"The journey has made you wary," Sibyl replied. "You should sit." It occurred to him that he was still kneeling and she was still standing.

"As should you," he retorted. She gave him a grin, an indication that she was amused by his concern. After pulling out what she was searching for, she returned to sit beside him with an armful of bowls and more food.

"Does the enemy draw near?" Knowing that it was more than she should carry, Gannicus helped her place the items on the ground before she dropped them.

"We are safe for now despite the many that had fallen earlier today."

"May their souls rest in peace." By the tone of her voice, Gannicus could tell that she had fallen into a solemn mood. When he looked at her, he could see the empathy in her eyes. "It must be a burden to have witness the slaughter of the innocent." In that moment, he regretted bringing up the casualties of war. He did not want to bring her spirits down, nor did he intend to cause her to worry.

"Do not concern yourself with such heavy thoughts," he remarked and changed the topic. "What meal will you prepare this night?"

"What is left of yesterday."

"With the prospect of wine?" He asked, giving her a wink. Sibyl returned his gesture with a mischievous grin.

"I am afraid you must acquire that on your own," she told him. "I promised food, not drink." Satisfied that she was once again in a playful mood, Gannicus let her continue on with her preparations for their meal.

"Then perhaps I should start on the fire." Pulling out a small piece of stone from a bag, Sibyl handed him the piece of flint along with the striker. Obediently, he reached for the tools as she dropped them into his palm.

"Yes, you should." Gannicus gave her a smirk and silently followed her command. Striking the piece of flint, he created a few sparks, and shortly after, a small fire began to burn brightly in the night.

* * *

At Spartacus' request, he and Lugo went on a scouting mission to find more food. It didn't take them long to find a vast amount of land for grazing and a small number of villas in the valley. Over the next couple of hours, Spartacus had everyone prepare for battle with Crixus taking the lead. The overtaking of the valley was a success and after their victory, a celebration was in order. Laughter and song broke out while others took part in many pleasures of drink, women, and food. As for Gannicus, he remained under an arc way in the company of Sibyl, who was drinking wine for the first time.

"It burns throat," she cringed as he laughed at her attempt to try something new.

"As does all proper drink." He leaned over, placing his hand on the wall near her head to steady himself. "Perhaps you should hold with water and more purer thoughts." Gannicus looked into her bright orbs, and found himself mesmerized by the clarity of the colors due to the warm lighting. For a split second, she was bewildered by his suggestion, but it was quickly replaced by a braver demeanor.

"Or perhaps you should get another. This one's gone empty." Lifting up the cup, she finished the rest of the drink despite his advisement. He let out an amused chuckle when she pushed the cup towards him, watching as her brows drew together to convey her dislike for the taste of wine.

"Recall when head pounds upon morning that I but follow command," Gannicus remarked and leaned forward to give her a kiss before walking way to fill the jug with more wine. What he didn't except was finding Saxa, who was prepared to properly talk to him. Even though they had fought side by side over the last few days, they had not exchanged any words. She left him alone, and he did the same. Whether it was to avoid conflict or to avoid conversation, the truce was now broken.

"You are with little thing now?" At the mention of Sibyl, he looked over his shoulder to see her smiling at him.

"Apologies," he stated, returning to face Saxa. "I did not wish to see heart wounded." The German warrior didn't care for his sentiment, nor was she in the mood for small talk.

"You will ruin little thing with your drink and ways of your kind," she remarked, bending down to sit near the edge of the pool, "and you again will find my bed." She pulled another woman for a kiss, and he grinned, knowing that she had no hard feelings towards him. However, as he turned to see that Sibyl was waiting for his return, Gannicus couldn't help but recall Saxa's words about his habits. She knew him well enough to point out his vices. It was almost as if she was warning him of his influence over Sibyl. What didn't sit well with him was the fact that Saxa was right. Before she met him, Sibyl never had a drop to drink, and now she was eager to prove to him that she could drink with him after refusing to indulge in his thirst for wine.

With these troubling thoughts in mind, Gannicus left the jug of wine near the edge of the pool and returned to Sibyl. He was met with her confused stare, but it didn't stop him from leaning down to draw her in for a long kiss. As he tasted her soft lips, he knew what he wanted that night. In that moment, he didn't care for wine, or any other women. All he wanted was to be with her, and he wasn't going to give a fuck about what other people thought of it. More than ever, he was sure about one thing: he was not going to let any harm come to her and he would do anything to keep her safe, and tonight he was going to prove to her that she was the only one for him.

* * *

The rising sun pulled him away from his moment of rest, and when Gannicus opened his eyes, he found that the morning was filled with the inevitable farewell of Crixus, Naevia, and Agron. Not to mention that he was met with the absence of Sibyl sleeping in his arms. Ever the early bird, she was all ready up, dressed and waiting outside while she talked to her fellow companions. Gannicus had finally found the Gaul and recalled the events of their time together.

"It seems but yesterday you stood as open-mouthed Gaul, anxious to prove yourself in the arena." They both walked out into the streets, avoiding the men who were loading weapons and carting the supplies. "Now thousands gladly follow you, lay assault upon Rome itself."

"I would hold it as a blessing from Jupiter himself, if you would join with us," Crixus firmly stated. Gannicus looked over his shoulder and his gaze lingered momentarily before he gave his fellow brother a reply.

"My journey leads toward another path." Upon hearing these words, Crixus turned around to follow his gaze. Sibyl had caught his attention and gave him a knowing smile.

"There is no greater cause, to turn a man from battle." Gannicus gave no reply, and moved forward to face Crixus one last time. Clasping their arms together, they both bid a silent farewell after giving a heartfelt pat on the shoulder. It was a bittersweet moment to have to part ways with someone he had known from the house of Batiatus. They had come a long way, and now they must travel a different path of their own choosing.

While Crixus' decision was to continue on fighting with the Romans, his own decision was an easy choice to make after battling many years in the sands as the Champion of Capua. He did not wish to see any more battle knowing that he had someone waiting for him to return, nor would he want to condemn Sibyl to the threat of war. His priorities had changed. Whether it was for the better, he didn't know. As long as he had Sibyl by his side, he was willing to sacrifice the call of battle to willingly face the uncertain future ahead of them.


End file.
